


One hour

by osmiumpeach



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 18:36:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16413689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osmiumpeach/pseuds/osmiumpeach
Summary: The war ended a long time ago and all captured controllers are freed. Sadly, not all controllers have been captured as the blade ship wasn't taken during the final battle between the yeerks and the Animorphs. Alex was on the ship during that battle and, along with his yeerk, is currently stationed on a planet partially controlled by the yeerks, fully aware help will never come.





	One hour

< You’re in luck, bud. This one’s a three hours. >  
I took a deep breath as soon I was in control. I could breathe. I could blink. I could swallow.  
I was myself. I was Alex Turner. A human being. Me.  
For three hours.

No.  
I had to remember what I had learned after being captured: focus on the bright side.  
I was myself for three hours. It was a lot more than what I usually got. That was a very good thing to focus on.  
Right?  
Still not a lot compared to the 24 hours I had a long time ago.  
Dammit.  
Why did I have to think that?  
Why did I even think of something like that in the first place? I usually managed to keep the worse for when I was a host; when I had an easy access to the small mind-shelter I had slowly built over the years.  
Perhaps I should just give up now? Unlike the golden days when I was still on earth, where I had merely _lost_ hope, I now _knew_ there was no hope.  
The war was had ended a long time ago and no one would ever look for me – except the yeerks, if I somehow find a way to get outside the pool without Secar. I couldn’t even hope for the Animorphs to attack the pool and cause my death.  
FUCK!  
Why was I having that kind of thoughts all of a sudden? Why couldn’t I keep them for later when I would have my shelter to use as a shield?  
Because I was weak. Because there was no hope. Because there was no joy. Because there was just my body and Secar 641.  
GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!!!!! BRIGHT. SIDE. ONLY!

“Alex?”  
I spun around. I knew that voice. The voice of the only person preventing me from giving up. The voice of the only person who cared about _me_ , Alex _._  
“Mr. Henderson!” I said with a smile on my face.  
“Hi. So, how long do you have?”  
“Three hours. You?”  
“Same. I guess they have a meeting of some sort.”  
That was one of the rare things I actually appreciated from our respective yeerks. They both worked in intelligence and, as a result, regularly took extra time in the pool to discuss sensitive matters; doing it with our body would allow any yeerks infesting us to have a free access to the whole discussion and whatever confidential information it involved. Some hosts envied us for we had more “freedom” and other pitied us for it was just a longer, crueler, reminder of what we had lost and would never have again. Despite being a controller for quite a few years, I was still unsure of which group was right. Probably both, I guess.  
“So, what will it be this feeding?” I asked as we walked past the pool’s cages. “Math or French?”  
“Why not both?” Mr. Henderson said. “We do have three hours, don’t we?”  
“Can we skip math? We already had it the last two feedings.”  
“We already talked about this, Alex. I know it’s not your favourite subject, but you still have troubles with negative numbers and you need to be familiar with them if you want to advance further. Plus, we need to look at the Pythagorean theorem.”  
“ugh…. Fine.” I sighted. “Can we start with French, at least?”  
“Only if you ask it in French.”  
“Est-ce qu’on peut commencer par le cours français?”  
“You made one mistake there.”  
I looked at him for a few seconds. Was it the verb? No.The simple present of _pouvoir_ with the third person singular was _peut._ _Être_ , maybe? That verb was irregular and it wouldn’t surprise me if I did a mistake there…. No. Third person singular with simple present really was _est_.  
What else, then?  
Maybe I had mistranslated a whole word? No. Begin was _commencer_ , class was _cours_ and French was _français._  
Oh right. The determinant.  
“Est-ce qu’on peut commencer par le cours _de_ français?”  
“That’s great!” He said as we entered in the voluntary room/cage. “Alors, peut-tu me dire où on s’était arreté la semaine dernière?”  
_So, can you tell me where we stopped last week?_  
“I… I think you wanted to do a dictation?” I answered.  
“Yes, right. A dictation.” He answered as he fetched a piece of paper and a pen. “This one will be graded.”  
I smiled.

  
I always loved it when it was graded and counted toward my average. It made everything easier. Easier for Mr. Henderson to pretend he was still a teacher and easier for me to pretend I was still at school.  
Of course, only for three hours.  
FUCK! What was wrong with me today? Why couldn’t I think of anything “bright” without spoiling the whole thing with a shitty thought immediately after?  
Whatever. It’s not like it mattered, anyway. Optimism wouldn’t save me. Nothing would. I was doomed to stay with Secar forever. I couldn’t even hope he would be replaced with a kind yeerk – one who would care about me and wouldn’t take pleasure in reminding how weak and powerless I was – because he was high enough to choose his host and, in his own words, I belonged to him and him only: as long as I wasn’t too old to be useful, I would stay with him. And I was far from being too old.  
“Ok, I’m ready” I said after taking the pen and paper.  
“Let’s go, then.” Mr. Henderson said. “Demain, dès l’aube, à l’heure où blanchit la campagne, je partirai.”  
I scrambled to copy what he was saying. I knew he was talking a bit faster than he should but I was happy with that. He was doing it on purpose. He knew the more focused I was on the dictation, the easier it was for me to think about something else than my shitty existence.  
“Vois-tu, je sais que tu m’attend.”  
Sometime, when I focused hard enough, I could pretend it was of any utility. When I managed that, I would pretend I could speak French more than a few hours every three days. I would pretend I could speak with someone else than Mr. Henderson.  
“J’irai par la forêt, j’irai par la montagne.”  
I would pretend the few French speakers around here weren’t all in the cages and that they would understand I was also an involuntary.  
“Je ne puis demeurer loin de toi plus longtemps.”  
I would pretend I knew how to explain to them that, if I wasn’t thrown in the cages, it was only because my yeerk knew I had built my own personal cage in my own mind; the bars were simply made of hopelessness rather than steel.  
“Je marcherai les yeux fixés sur mes pensées…”  
Sadly, it wasn’t always the case. Most of the time, I would remember how useless this was and how I would _never_ be able to use anything I learned with Mr. Henderson. Or with anyone. Or at all. A few hours every three days wasn’t enough to use whatever I was taught. Heck, it wasn’t enough to find _how_ I could use that knowledge outside the artificial situations Mr. Henderson and I created when our yeerks fed! Or… Or just to do _anything_.  
It wasn’t enough to have a life!

  
I felt a tear come out of my eye. I wanted to be home. I wanted to see my dad. My mom. My _real_ friends. Ruperton.  
Or simply know how they were doing right now.  
All I could do was to hope they all assumed I was dead. Knowing I was a controller with no hopes of being free ever again wouldn’t change anything and would only make them feel guilty for no reasons. Thinking I was dead, however, would just make them feel sad for some time and they would comfort themselves by believing my agony was over.  
“Sans rien voir… Alex, you’re all right?”  
I felt even more tears coming out of my eyes.  
No. I wasn’t all right. I hadn’t been all right since forever. I wanted to move more than a few hours at a time. I wanted to be with my friends. I wanted my dad. I wanted my mom. I wanted to have birthday parties…  
Oh right. Birthday. That’s why I couldn’t focus on the bright side. It was my anniversary – both of my infestation and my birth.  
One more year of being a controller. One more year of being a slave of my own body. One more year of being a host and one less year before I would be a controller for the majority of my life. How long did I have left before that, already? If we were in 2002, that made it…  
Crap. One year. One year and I would be more “host” than “Alex”.  
No. Bright side. It was one less year before my release.

“I… Alex, come here.”  
I stood up and made a few steps toward him. I didn’t want to go back to the pool. I didn’t want to stay on this planet. I wanted to get back on earth. I wanted my life back.  
I wrapped my arms around Mr. Henderson and cried even more as he gently caressed my back. We stood like that for a solid five minutes. Just me crying and him doing his best to comfort me.  
“Hey, listen. Forget about the dictation, ok? Today’s vacation.” He said to break the silence. “You choose the game.”  
I nodded silently. We both knew what it meant. After all, I always picked the same game.  
I closed my eyes and focused on the dog Secar had acquired soon after he… I… received the power to morph.  
  
< Come on! Let’s play! > I said. < Or pet me. Or both. >  
I wasn’t bothering to fight the dog’s instincts. In fact, it was the opposite: I made my best to sit back in my mind and let the instincts overpower me. They made me happy, playful, excited and, sometime, even allowed me to forget I was a controller.  
“I can’t do both at the same time, Alex, you’ll have to choose.”  
< Play, then. No, pet me! I love being pet! No… Let’s play fetch! I love playing fetch! >  
I followed Mr. Henderson as he went to search for a ball. I didn’t care what its purpose normally was. All I cared about is that we could play fetch with it.  
< Come on! Throw it really far! > I said the moment he had the ball in his hand. < I’ll show you how quick I can bring it back to you! >  
“Well, I can’t refuse that, can I?”  
< No! No you can’t! Just throw it! >  
“Ok. Ready?” He asked. “FETCH!”  
I jumped and tried to catch the ball mid-air, as it passed above me. Miss. Who cared? I just had to run after it!  
I ran toward the ball as fast as I could. It was awesome! I was going so fast I could barely feel the ground under my paws! I was the fastest dog of the world! No. Of the universe! No dogs could outrun me! Mr. Henderson would give me some many pets for this. There was no way he wasn’t impressed by my speed! I was faster than a race car! Faster than a plane! Faster than light!!!  
I caught the ball as it bounced on the wall (I managed to grab it while it was still in the air!!!) and ran back toward my master.  
< There! > I said as my tail wagged like crazy. < Throw it again! >  
“Hey, let’s see if you can catch it mid-air.” My master said as he threw the ball very very high.  
< Easy! > I said before jumping with my mouth wide open to catch the toy. < See? Told you! > I announced once I had my favourite toy in my mouth. < Now, let’s do that again! Or… No. Pet me! >  
I threw myself on my back – without giving up my ball – and stared at Mr. Henderson. I knew he would pet me. He was, after all, so good and kind with dogs!  
“Aw, ok.” He whispered before kneeling down to rub my belly. “You like being pet, don’t you?”  
< YES! > What a stupid question. Of _course_ I loved pets!  < But how is that relevant? Just pet… >

“ _Carl Henderson to the infestation pier.”  
_

Reality came back the moment I heard those words through the interphone. It was over. For whatever reason, someone wanted Mr. Henderson to be reinfested.  
“Shit. Sorry, Alex. I have to go.” He said as he gave a last rub on the belly. “We’ll have another dictation next time, ok?”  
< No need to be sorry. >  
“I know. But still…”  
We walked to the door leading to the pool without saying a word. Several years ago, I would have argued. I would have begged him – and the guards – to let him stay a little longer so we could, at least, finish the dictation. But, now, I knew better. The yeerks only cared about our body and had the final say on everything: if they wanted Mr. Henderson to be reinfested, he would be reinfested. They didn’t care how we felt about it.

“Goodbye, Alex. Be strong.” Mr. Henderson said as he went out of the room.  
< Yes. Goodbye. Be strong. > I answered as he closed the door behind him.  
I let myself drop on the floor. I couldn’t be happy anymore. Mr. Henderson was gone. I tried to sit back in my mind to let the instincts overwhelm me but it wasn’t working. No matter how far I went, the despair always won. It was like if I was so sad and unhappy the dog’s instincts were too scared to help me. I couldn’t really blame them.  
Maybe I should demorph? Since I wouldn’t be protected by the dog’s happiness, I might as well be in my human form and cry away the pain of my anniversary. Moreover, I had been Secar’s host for years. I knew he wouldn’t let me cry. If I didn’t do it now, I would have to wait three more days.  
Yes… Better to demorph.  
Unless I gave up on my body and became a dog nothlit on purpose?  
Yeah, right. As if. If Secar was ok with me morphing, it meant he had a backup plan to keep me enslaved no matter what I did. Otherwise, he would make sure I would never morph by myself. Knowing him, whatever the plan was, it would make my "life" ten times worse than it currently was.  
I focused on my body and cried as soon as I wasn’t a dog anymore. I didn’t bother to stand up or anything. Sure, there was a couch near me but I just didn’t care. In fact, I almost felt better like that: _I_ was choosing to lie on the ground rather than going on the couch.  
Not that it made me feel better, anyway. I could only choose that for a few hours every three days.  
Maybe I should really give up? Just embrace my host life and stop moving by myself entirely?  
No. I couldn’t do that. Mr. Henderson wouldn’t have any “student” anymore.

“Out of my way.”  
I looked at the man in front of me. I couldn’t see him clearly because of my tears but it didn’t matter. I already knew he was a true voluntary who supported the empire.  
“I… what?” I asked.  
“You’re blocking the door.”  
I looked at the door. It was true. I was blocking it.  
“Sorry.” I said as I slowly stood up. “I swear I didn’t do it on purpose.”  
“Whatever, kid.” He said as he shoved me away from the door.  
I turned around and walked toward the couch without waiting for him to apologize. There was no need to. He was a true voluntary and supported the empire. He was no different from a yeerk: mean to everyone who didn’t collaborated with him or the empire as a whole.  
Maybe I should join them? Maybe I would get treated a little bit better if I actively helped the empire?  
No. Who was I kidding? It wouldn’t work. Secar would just laugh at how desperate I was and remind me I would never be free again. And he would be right. There was no hope for me. I would be a controller forever. For the rest of my life. A long time. Decades. I couldn’t even hope to get injured or to develop an incurable disease: Secar would just morph something to heal me.

I walked toward the couch and lay down on it. I grabbed a cushion and pressed it on my chest before closing my eyes. After a few seconds, I started to caress it and managed to pretend I was snuggling Ruperton instead of a cushion. I even managed to pretend it well enough to stop crying; not well enough, however, to stop feeling sad: this wasn’t the real Ruperton, after all.  
I sighted. I missed him so much. The real Ruperton. He was so cute and adorable. I still remembered that small stain of hot chocolate on his face or his black scar mom and I had sewed together when I had noticed a small tear on his arm. I would give so much to have him right now.  
Would Secar even allow me to snuggle him, anyway? Maybe. I had stopped fighting long ago and snuggling Ruperton wouldn’t damage my body in any ways. On the other hand, he didn’t care how I felt. He might very well decide to be a dick and tell someone to hide him just to show how much power he had over me.  
Why was I even bothering to think about that? It wouldn’t bring Ruperton and it wouldn’t make Secar care about me, Alex.  
Still…  
I wanted Ruperton. The real one. Not the cushion I imagined as him.  
I started to cry again. No surprise there. I was weak. I had always been weak.

Otherwise, I wouldn’t have interrupted a full-member meeting during a beach party because some teenager had pushed me but solved the problem by myself and the yeerks wouldn’t have captured me the next day to be sure I hadn’t heard anything about the invasion. If I had been strong that night, if I had tried to solve the problem by myself instead of searching an adult to help me, I would still be able to move, to play and chat with my _real_ friends.  
To be me.  
But I was weak. So, instead, I was living a life of fakes: a fake school, a fake teacher, a fake Ruperton, a fake happiness when I morphed a dog.  
And a fake life whenever Secar wasn’t in my head – because, let’s be honest, I didn’t have a life anymore: Secar had stolen it long ago.

“ _Alex Turner to the infestation pier”_

Already?  
I looked at the clock. Only one hour had passed. Not enough for a complete feeding. Whatever. It didn’t matter. I was ordered to go there. With some luck, I would be able to learn why Secar had interrupted the feeding/meeting so soon. I didn’t have any illusions, thought. At best, Secar wouldn’t actively try to hide it from me.  
My best chance was with Mr. Henderson. His yeerk was more open about stuff like that than Secar. Unless it was a secret, we could be sure Gadan – Mr. Henderson’s yeerk – would explain him everything.  
I guess I just needed to wait until we would meet again. Which would be… Let’s see…  
Gadan had been feeding for fifteen minutes so he would go back to the pool today. Secar, however, had a full hour so he would probably wait until tomorrow.  
Crap. Our feedings wouldn’t be synchronized anymore so that made it three whole feedings without seeing him – at which point, our yeerks would have another meeting and the feedings would be synchronized again. Probably.

I stood up and headed toward the door. I guess I could consider it as a bright side. It proved I could still move by myself. But it wouldn’t last.  
I was doomed be a controller for my entire life. I knew what would happen to me. It had happened to Calgis 5631’s host, Elisabeth, and she was older, and stronger, than me. There were no reasons it wouldn’t happen to me too. It was a miracle I was still holding.  
Sooner or later, I would become unable to move by myself; sooner or later, Secar would steal my body entirely.  
I couldn’t tell if it would happen gradually – like for Elisabeth – or instantly. I couldn’t tell how “far” the paralysis would be – hopefully, I would still be able to move my eyes. I couldn’t tell if there would be any warning signs. I couldn’t tell if Secar would try to prevent it just in case the paralysis would be so grave that even a yeerk would be unable to move my body or if he would try to precipitate it – probably the latter. I couldn’t tell if Secar would keep me or throw me away and have me used as a practice host for yeerks unable to control their resisting host – probably the former.

However, I could tell Secar would tease me over that and remind me that Elisabeth had been lucky enough to be saved. I could tell it would happen soon: I didn’t have any problems to move and I was already tempted to just lay down whenever Secar was feeding – what was the point of moving if it only lasted a few hours every three days?  
I could tell it would be permanent  
I could tell it would be the end of me: I would make a new shelter and slowly slip farther and farther back in my mind until I would forget myself entirely.

Finally, I could tell that, one day, I wouldn’t be Alex anymore.  
I wouldn’t even be a host.  
I would be nothing but a sentience trapped in someone else’s body.


End file.
